


Death and Friends

by Witty_Whit



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Cute, F/M, Friendship, Ghosts, Humor, Pre-Canon, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-25
Updated: 2010-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witty_Whit/pseuds/Witty_Whit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus makes a friend. Unfortunately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death and Friends

Marcus had been excited when he was placed in Slytherin his first year. His parents were proud, he made friends quickly, and even classes weren't too hard. Everything was going perfectly well.

All until a certain moaning ghost developed a little crush on him.

The humiliating experience began sometime in November and lasted for far too long. Marcus had been shooting rubber bands at a portrait of a mortified priest, when Myrtle soared threw the wall and began shrieking at Marcus. "What do you think you're doing, little boy! You're not supposed to throw things indoors, everybody knows that! You keep pinging the pipes in the walls, and you're giving me a headache! Don't you dare do it again!"

Just as she was about to fly away, Marcus spoke up, "What were you doing in the pipes?"

Myrtle turned and snarled at him, "What was I doing in the pipes! I live there, you stupid boy!"

Marcus scratched his head, "Why do you live in pipes?"

Myrtle bit her lip, and had she not been permanently a ghostly grey color, she would have turned beet red. "Listen here, you, I'm dead. I was murdered. I live in the pipes because I died in that bathroom behind the wall you're shooting rubber bands at!"

Marcus frowned, "How did you die?"

Immediately, Myrtle calmed and stopped looming over him. With dramatic gestures and voice she told him the ghastly tale of her death. Like all wild boys, Marcus was greatly interested in her details of gore, and Myrtle's story grew more dazzlingly gruesome with his attention.

When she was finished, he sat back amazed and said, "That's incredible! How excited you must have been!"

Sniffing, Myrtle said snottily, "Well, I was dead. It's hard to be excited about your own death." Then she softened a little and sighed, "You know, you're not such a horrid boy. You're not like the others who just tease and torment me. Even though you are an ugly little thing, I think I like you a bit."

Marcus smiled crookedly and stood up. "Thanks for the story, Myrtle, I have to be going know. I'll see you around."

As he ran off, Myrtle grinned to herself and her eyes sparkled, and she blushed slightly as she whispered to herself, "I'm sure you will."

Thus began the worst time of Marcus's life. True to her word, Miss Moaning Myrtle followed Marcus around constantly. It wasn't bad at first, he got to scare all the Hufflepuffs with a ghost and frighten them with the ghastly details of her death.

However, the story got old quickly, and Myrtle became something of a pest. Honestly, Marcus was flattered at first, despite not being exactly interested in a ghost-girlfriend. As time passed, her presence turned quickly from an excitement to a bother. She never left him alone, and the teachers were getting annoyed with having to constantly chase her out of the classroom. Mealtimes became humiliating as the other houses made fun of the tormented boy. Soon the other Slytherins turned on their own; they too were getting tired of Myrtle's whines at dinner, in the common room, and everywhere that the first year went.

Marcus began losing sleep, although never his appetite. His friends never bothered to keep him company any more. Of course, there was always Myrtle to talk to if he grew lonely. Yet, he never did much talking when Myrtle was around (which was, of course, always). She had an obnoxious habit of not only manipulating the conversation, while not allowing him to speak, but of also only wanting to talk about her death. The once exciting topic soon grew stale.

When Marcus stopped being able to concentrate in class, because he was so stressed about Myrtle waiting for him right outside the classroom door, he decided something must be done about the girl.

What precisely does one do about getting rid of a very determined and in love ghost? Marcus had a great shortage of good ideas on the subject. He tried ignoring her, but she had always talked without needing a response, so lack of attention was not about to stop her. Desperate, Marcus began hiding, but since Myrtle was superb at floating through walls, cabinets, closets, and his bed, this did absolutely no good. He tried being rude, but Myrtle was so enamored that it did little different. On the advice of an older Slytherin, he sat her down and tried to let her down easy, but it did not go as planned. None of Professor Snape's potions seemed to do any lasting good. All in all, Marcus began to apprehensively feel that he was never going to get rid of Myrtle.

Finally, as a last resort, Marcus visited the office of the headmaster. Although never a model student and definitely something of a troublemaker, Marcus had never been summoned to visit Headmaster Dumbledore.

Timidly, Marcus knocked on the large door, expecting to be sent on his way. To his surprise, the headmaster opened the door himself and looked down at him with cool blue eyes. He opened the door a bit wider and commanded, "Come in, my boy."

After Marcus had been sat down in a large chair, the Dumbledore stared down at the nervous boy, "What can I do for you?"

Marcus bit his lip, fearing that he would be laughed at for his troubles and thinking that it was all a big mistake coming here. Dumbledore stared at him passively. "It's just a bit of a problem, sir."

"Have you been eating well?" The headmaster offered him a cookie.

Marcus quickly took it and between bites managed, "I've been eating fine, sir. It's with a person, sir."

"Oh my," sighed the old wizard leaning back in his chair. "Just who is it?"

"It's a girl. She, well, she's a gh– a problem, sir."

"Trouble with girls? I think that's something most boys would envy, especially since you're a first year."

Marcus took a deep breath and burst out, "It's Myrtle the Ghost, sir, she won't leave me alone." He looked down, ashamed, and didn't notice the twinkle in the headmaster's eyes.

"So you've made a friend with Miss Myrtle, have you?"

"Well, yeah, sir, we talked once, but now she won't leave me alone. She follows me everywhere and whines all the time. Everyone is getting annoyed with me and I don't know what to do. She doesn't listen to me!" Breathing heavily, Marcus leaned forward, begging for help.

"Ah, you do have a problem, don't you?" The headmaster leaned back and smiled slightly.

"What should I do, sir?"

"What do you think you should do?"

Marcus crossed his arms and didn't say anything. He knew that he had tried everything that he could think of.

Dumbledore smiled, "I'm not going to tell you what to do." He patted the boy on the shoulder, when Marcus slumped forward, dejected. "Myrtle was always a lonely, troubled girl. She could use a friend like you."

"But I don't want to be her friend anymore."

"Why not?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"She's embarrassing and she gets me in trouble and everyone hates me."

"I think that you might have more of a problem with your friends that with Myrtle."

"Myrtle made the problem with my friends!"

"Now, now," comforted Dumbledore, "I think if you give it some thought and some time, you'll figure out the right thing to do. Have another cookie and go back to your room and get some rest." Marcus stood up and tried not to look sullen. "There's a good boy."

Marcus spent the next three hours in his room until he finally came up with a solution. He doubted that it would work, but he was desperate enough to try anything. He made his way through the back corridors of the school until he came to the spot where he first met Myrtle.

"There you are," squealed the ghost. "I lost you after class, but I thought you'd come here!" She tried to grab him, but only passed icily through. Sadly, she hugged herself.

Seizing the opportunity of her silence, Marcus quickly blurted, "Myrtle, I need to talk to you about something! You have to listen. Please." Myrtle gave him an odd look, but sat down quietly.

With a deep breathe, Marcus began, "I'm glad you're my friend. But I can't hang around you all the time, you know, I need to do school work and be with the other guys. You shouldn't be following me all the time, it makes everyone jealous. I really like talking with you, but about more things that your death, maybe?" Marcus was feeling like he wasn't getting through to her, but he kept going. "I think it would be better if I just visited you here. I hope you don't get angry."

Myrtle sniffed, "I should have known you didn't like me."

"Don't be silly," he scolded. "I do like you; I just need to think about me sometimes."

Myrtle frowned, "That's selfish."

Marcus swallowed his pride and said, "I know it is, but I'd rather visit you. I think we'll be better friends, instead of you following me everywhere."

Myrtle thought for a minute, and then stated, "That might be all right. I was getting tired of everyone staring at me all the time."

Amazed, Marcus grinned. "We'll be better friends now."

"You have to come visit me everyday."

"I promise I will."

And he did. Throughout his time at Hogwarts, Marcus could often be found walking around the back corridors. Not many people knew why, and he would never admit it. They did become better friends. Myrtle became tired of telling him how she died, and soon their conversations expanded to knew things. She enjoyed gossip, and Marcus was able to bring her plenty from the Slytherin girls. When she could be persuaded to stop talking herself, she was a good listener, and Marcus often came to her with his problems. She even tutored him a bit. In the end, Marcus and Myrtle became good friends to both of their surprise, though you never get either of them to admit it.

But a very wise wizard and a very disgruntled priest knew. The wizard often complimented himself on encouraging the boy to remain friends, and the priest often congratulated himself on allowing the rubber bands to ping the pipes.


End file.
